Mario de Spadante, through heavy-lidded eyes, looked at Trevayne with hatred. His voice, however, remained calm, only the rasp slightly more pronounced. «That’s a favorite word of your kind, isn’t it? ‘Desirable.’ We’re … ‘just not desirable.’»
«Don’t make a sociological case out of it. You’re not an appropriate spokesman.»
De Spadante shrugged. «Even your insults don’t bother me, my good amico. You know why?… Because you’re a troubled man, and a man with troubles has a bad tongue… No, I’m still going to help you.»
«You may, but I doubt that it’ll be voluntary…»
«But first this soldier,» continued the Italian, as if Trevayne had not spoken. «This soldier, you forget. There’s not going to be any trial. This soldier is a dead man; believe me when I tell you this information. He may be breathing now, but he’s a dead man. You forget him… Now, for your good news… Like I said, you got troubles; but your friend Mario is going to make sure that nobody takes advantage of you because of them.»
«What are you talking about?»
«You work hard, Trevayne; you spend a lot of time away from home…»
Andrew sat bolt upright in his chair. «You make one lousy, rotten threat against my family, you filthy son-of-a-bitch, and I’ll see you put away for the rest of your life! You’d better not even think in those terms, you animal. That’s one area where the President has given me all the assurances I need! I’ll make one telephone call, and you’re locked up so far out of sight—»
«Basta! You got no right! You shut up!» De Spadante roared as loud as was possible for him, simultaneously clutching his stomach. Then, just as quickly as he had matched Trevayne’s intensity, his voice descended to its raspy, quiet norm. «That kind of talk doesn’t belong in this room. I got respect for a man’s house … his children, his brothers. That soldier, he’s the animal, not me; not De Spadante.»
«You were the one who brought it up. I just want to make sure you know where you stand. That’s out of bounds, and the man on Pennsylvania Avenue has guaranteed it. He’s out of your league, hoodlum.»
Mario swallowed, his fury hidden poorly under his rasp. «He doesn’t guarantee an Augie de Spadante, does he? Not Augie; he’s not desirable.»
Trevayne looked at his wristwatch. «You have something to say, say it.»
«Sure. Sure, I’ll say it. And the only guarantee you got is me. Like I said, you spent a lot of time away from home, picking up your chips. Maybe you don’t have enough time left to give proper guidance to your loved ones. You got problems. You got a wild boy who drinks too much and draws blanks after a bad night. Now, that’s not too terrible, but he also hits pedestrians. For instance, I got an old man in Cos Cob who was hurt pretty bad by your kid.»
«That’s a lie.»
«We got photographs. We got at least a dozen photographs of a half-crazy kid by his car at night. The car and the kid, a mess. So, this old man who was hit; we paid him to be nice and not hurt a wild kid who didn’t mean any harm. I’ve got the canceled checks—and, of course, a statement. But that’s not such a bad thing; millionaires’ kids have different values. People understand that… We had a little more trouble with your girl. Yes, that was a bad thing; it was very touch-and-go for a while. Your friend Mario spared no expense to protect her … and you.»
Trevayne sat back in his chair; there was no anger in his expression, only disgust coupled with faint amusement. «The heroin. That was you,» he said simply.
«Me? You don’t hear good… A little girl, maybe bored, maybe just for kicks, gets hold of a bag of the best Turkish—»
«You conceivably think you can prove that?»
«The best Turkish; over two hundred thousand worth. Maybe she’s got a little network of her own. Those fancy girls’ schools are a big part of the scene today. You know that, don’t you? There was a diplomat’s daughter caught a few months ago; you saw that in the papers, no? He didn’t have a friend like your friend Mario.»
«I asked you a question. Do you really think you could prove anything?»
«You think I couldn’t?» De Spadante suddenly turned on Trevayne and spat out the words. «Don’t be so dumb. You’re dumb, Mr. Arrogance! You think you know everyone your little girl has been seen with? You think I can’t give Lieutenant Fowler of the Greenwich Police Department a list of names and places? Who checks? Seventeen isn’t that young these days, amico. Maybe you read about those rich kids with the nigger organizations, blowing up buildings, making riots… Now, I don’t say your kid is one of them; but people got to think. They see it every day. And two hundred thousand …»
Trevayne stood up, his patience at an end. «You’re wasting my time, De Spadante. You’re cruder—and denser—than I thought. What you’re telling me is that you’ve engineered potential blackmail situations; I’m sure they’re well-thought-out. But you’ve made a serious mistake. Two mistakes. You’re out of date, and you don’t know your subjects. You know, you’re right. Seventeen and nineteen aren’t that young these days. Think about it. You’re part of what the kids can’t stand anymore. Now, whether you’ll excuse me or not—»
«What about forty-two?»
«What?»
«Forty-two isn’t a kid. You got a pretty wife. A well-stacked lady in her forties with plenty of money and maybe a hunger or two she don’t get satisfied inside her big ranch house … or maybe in her fancy castle on the ocean. A lady who had a big drinking problem a few years ago?»
«You’re on dangerous ground, De Spadante.»
«You listen, and you listen good!… Some of these classy ladies come into town and hang around the East Side saloons, the ones with French or Spanish names. Others head for the artsy-fartsy places in the Village where the rich fags go, too. Lots of studs down there who’ll swing both ways for a buck… And then a few of the real genuine articles go to hotels like the Plaza—»
«I warn you!»
«Before they get to the Plaza—where naturally they got reservations—they make a telephone call to a certain number, these ladies do; these genuine articles. No fuss; no bother, no worries at all. Everything very discreet; satisfaction guaranteed… And the games they play! I tell you, amico, you wouldn’t believe it!»
Trevayne abruptly swung around and started for the door. De Spadante’s voice—louder but not loud—stopped him. «I got a sworn affidavit from a very respected hotel security man. He’s been around for a long time; he’s seen them all. He can spot the genuine articles; he spotted yours. It’s a very ugly statement. And it’s true. What he saw.»